The Delaware ledger. (Newark, Del.) 1879-19??, 1887-01-15
THE BITTER AND SWEET.
BY MARY N. PRESCOTT.
Concluded from last lCeek.

to take it on trust as they've done.
| should want to see letters in his
own hand, or something conhrmato-
ry, not Just her word for it.
"Seems to me it would be a tre-
mendous cruelty to turn deaf ear
to her at such time, and refuse to
believe her story"
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Blunt. "Bet-
Ter he cheated to the last, than lose
the blessed hope of truth, as some
poets says"
1t was a few days after these aston
ishing events that Miss Betty lie
Breton returned from a vacation at
the mountains, without having heard
of the disaster that had overtaken
the Fanshawes.
'"When | am married." she said,
in the enthusiasm of first acquain-
tance with the mountains, 81 shall
take my wedding tour throug the
hills in a buggy it's just enchant-
ment. Any letter for me, Aunt FL
len? Any news ?"
"News? Oh dear-yes-too much.
| didn't write you because l didn't
want to sadden your vacation. And
you and Aleck were always such
friends"
"Aleckr
"Yes. The AlJdtross has been lost
at sea, and the Fanshawes are just
heart-broken, and Louise is there
with them it seems she was engag-
ed to Aleck privetely and her
widows weeds are very becoming.
It's dreadful, dreadful thing for
her; but they say the Squire has
about the same as adopted her, and
that she'll have the lions share Of
Alexis money. She went in on the
Squire's own arms when the funeral
sermon was preached it was very
touching. Why don'tyou say some
thing, Betty? l always thought
you and Aleck were good friends ;
and Louise"
"What is there to say ?n Betty
asked, directly. There was an odd
lustre in her eyes, but she was not
crying she looked petrifed.
"You might at least say you are
sorry"
"Sorry? Oh ycs"-absently-"I
suppose So
"Why, Betty, haven't you any
feeling?"
81 don't know. Perhaps not.
What good would it do ?"
"Aleck was such II good friend to
you Do you remember when he
used to come and help you with
your German? | used to think he
was a little in love with you, Betty
but it seems | was mistaken; and
for the matter of that, it doesn't sig
nifty, now that he is dead. Indeed,
it's better for you as it is you are
spared the sorrow. Why, Betty, arc
you sick? Is anything the mat
ter?"
Betty had risen with great cry,
aud was stretching out unavailing
arms into space. "Hc is dead -
Auckland he loved her, and she
has a right to her sorrow and =
1t was three months before Betty
lie Breton was able to sit up. The
neighbors said she had come
home from the mountains with ma
laria, and it was doubtful if she
would ever get it out of her system.
Miss lie Breton, her aunt, wisely
said nothing but when she saw
Louise in her funeral garments driv-
ing by in Squire Fanshawe's car
riage, she wondered if Betty were
not tar more miserable. Betty her
self wondered why she did not die
in that bitter season of despair
There seemed to be nothing to de
tain her here life had come to Il
stand-still. 1t was not that Aleck
had died; she could have borne that
perhaps and sorrowed bravely, and
vet have lived on. That would have
been grief enough, to be sure, for one
heart to bear but she would still
have possessed the tender assurance
of his love to compensate her. She
would not have lost him utterly ;
she could have lived ON, with the
certainty Of meeting him unchanged
at last, just as she had existed
through her tedious work-a-days,
sure of his companionship at their
close - the one brightness in all her
sombre days, the hours that were
never absent from her thoughts, the
hope that had carried her through
all difficulties uncomplainingly
Now there was nothing for her to live
for or to die for. 1t seemed to her
that the bloom was stripped from the
world. She could not reconcile her
self to her changed condition, nor
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